Astonished

“Instructions for living a life- pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”

                                            -Mary Oliver

We drive northeast of Mexico City on a highway lined with gritty auto supply stores and small factories. After an hour, caramel mountains peek on the horizon when our Uber driver announces we are near our destination: Teotihuacan, the city the Aztecs called “the birthplace of the gods.”   My daughter Abby and her boyfriend, Pierre, are joining me for this adventure to Mexico’s most visited archeological site.

Our driver deposits us near a small stand where a scarved woman shaded by an umbrella hands each of us a tamale and a cup of sweet coffee with floating specks of cinnamon.  I choose the Mole tamale, milder than the others and infused with chocolate.  To retrieve every delicious crumb, I scrape the corn husk with a plastic spoon. Abrahan, our tour guide, tells us that the sweet, tangy Mole was created to assuage the palate of the conquering Spaniards unused to spicy foods.

A teddy bear of a man, Abrahan has an easy smile that breaks out whenever he hears a question.  He smiles a lot. Balancing a backpack bulging with water bottles and brochures, Abrahan tells us he wanted to be a teacher, but fell in love with Teotihuacan when he did his mandatory public service here.  The sacred Pyramids of the Sun and Moon forged of volcanic rock. The Avenida of the Dead, like a grand boulevard in Paris connecting the pyramids;  the massive plaza where residents gathered to witness human offerings to the gods, all this became his classroom.  We learn that Teotihuacan was the largest city in the Americas when it flourished from 200 to 700 AD, home to more than 100,000 inhabitants. Nestled in an immense rain forest and encircled by mineral laden mountains with cascading streams, this was Mesoamerica’s Garden of Eden.   Abrahan tells us the fabled city was eventually conquered- not by adversaries-but by the depletion of resources.  It is sad, I think, that archeologists have never discovered a name for the inhabitants; they remain the People of Teotihuacan. Today their city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

  I look around and notice that vegetation is sparse- flowering cactus trees, queen palms and various shrubs have replaced the lush rain forests.

Abrahan’s teaching style is didactic.  “Which took longer to build, the Sun or Moon pyramid?” he asks.  The answer is obvious.  I yell out, “the Sun.”  He shakes his head. Although much smaller, the Moon Pyramid took 300 years longer to create. Like a volcanic onion, it has multiple layers, each sheltering the bones of a conquered adversary.  I struggle to climb the very narrow steps to an altar near the Moon Pyramid, whose 243 steps were scaled by a long-distance runner carrying the Olympic Torch in 1968.

“What did they use to paint the murals that line the Avenida of the Dead? “

 “Minerals,” Abrahan says, not waiting for an answer. “Their color last longer than paint made from berries, “ pointing to a red jaguar with claws so lifelike they look as if painted yesterday.

There are sacred mysteries everywhere. To demonstrate the plaza’s acoustics, Abrahan asks me to clap. When I oblige, he nods and says the sound I make is the whirring of the mystical quetzal, sacred bird of the Mayans.  We then take turns standing on the central altar where humans offerings took place and shout commands to one another standing about 50 yards way.  I ask Pierre to do jumping jacks. Pierre ask Abby to balance on one foot. Abby asks me to put my hands over my head. We all get it right. And Abrahan shoots me a knowing glance. 

When we have walked several hundred yards down the earth-covered Avenida of the Dead, Abrahan asks us to turn around and look back at Sun Pyramid.  It is a mirror image of the imposing mountain behind it. 

As our tour ends, Abrahan reaches into his backpack and pulls out three necklaces.  Strung with cord, each has a round pendant made of obsidian, the prized black mineral used to carve weapons and decorate tombs at the birthplace of the gods.  In one final teaching moment, Abrahan asks us to cover one eye with the stone and stare at the noonday sun hovering over the Pyramid of the Sun.  He suggests we use our pendant to gaze at the next solar eclipse.

 I promise to do this.  When I view the celestial show due to appear in 2024, I will remember a gentle man from Mexico who helped me remain astonished.